The First Time
by crowlow
Summary: Another RenIshi, this one much sweeter than the first. It's short short short, but still one of my favs. And in first person present tense, which I hardly EVER do. *is proud*


The first time, and he's all sharp angles and slim muscle, white, hairless skin. The slightness of his teen body is dwarfed by mine, but still his long legs are able to circle my waist as his ass cradles me tight. My hair is falling around us in a shower of red, the color reminding me too much of the things we'd seen in Los Noches. I try to ignore it by throwing my head back, trying to send it over my shoulder, but his hands are there and he's pulling me down, long fingers running through my hair. I stare down at him with a small scowl, and he meets me with dark blue orbs, which are clouded with arousal. For a moment I am lost and I forget about my stupid hair, and all I can think about are those watery eyes and those slightly chapped lips. Right now they're pale and thin, pulled into a tense line as his brows furrow.

"Damn it Abarai," he says breathlessly, his hips shifting as I thrust into him. The hold on my hair tightens, and he gives a harsh tug. "_Harder_."

Fuck, the kid's so demanding. I shoulda known he'd be this way, but I guess I never really thought about it. All I used to think about was the fag-flag he waved around with his damn sewing, or how annoying it was when ever he pushed his glasses up his nose and started spouting off about his ability to sense reiatsu. And then I used to think about what it'd feel like pounding into his sweet ass, what it would feel like having him writhe beneath me, lost in the pleasure and need I was feeding him. What I _didn't _think about, though, was the shit that came out of his mouth half the time.

"I'm not made of glass," he stats, his voice strained. I watch the line of his throat as he tilts his head back, the pale column drawing tight. "I should have known a _shinigami _couldn't handle--"

"Shut the fuck up," I say, my tone devoid of any real heat. I lower my head to capture his bitter looking mouth in a heated kiss, eating up any smartass retort I'm sure he was ready to fling. I start thrusting in earnest, my cock sliding in and out of his tight hole, filling him up and taking him away. My tongue is mimicking the push and pull of my dick as I tease his lips open. He gives me entry without resistance, and I can taste that he isn't as bitter as he looks. No, he's actually pretty fucking sweet, so fucking sweet that he has me moaning long and low. I close my eyes and feed him my next groan, because his flavor's so good, and the way he sucks on my tongue is so sweet that it has my heart pounding and my cock throbbing.

With a growl I shift my hips, dipping them lower to change the angle of my next thrust. He breaks our kiss with a startled gasp, and I watch in fascination as his eyes roll and his body trembles. His legs tighten even more around me, pulling me closer, taking me in deeper. It's like his ass is sucking my cock, his muscles flexing around me, squeezing in waves over my aching length. The grip of his hands is closer to my scalp, so tight that I start to think he'll rip my fucking hair out.

Ishida can't say anything else as I slam into him repeatedly, the sound of skin smacking against skin resounding loudly in the small room. His fingers twist and untwist around strands of crimson, and after this I know I'm gonna have a serious case of sex hair. Maybe even a few bald spots, the way he's going. His moans and quick inhalations add to the sounds of our fucking. He's panting so hard now that I wouldn't be surprised if he hyperventilated, or if his heart tore straight through his pale chest. Somehow, through that fog of lust that's clouded my mind, I manage to listen, trying to catch any words that may be falling from his mouth. I do, and I realize he's saying my name, but not in the way I want.

"Abarai," he moans, giving the red strands between his fingers a painful pull. "_Abarai_…"

I decide it's enough. It's not like I can expect anything more from Ishida. Him and his stupid-as-fuck Quincy pride. But, who the hell am I to argue? You can't take someone's pride, especially not a fighter's pride. Right now I'm taking his body, which is so open to me, so responsive as he takes my cock with every thrust. He is smaller than me, but in no way is he weak. There's a strength in his body as it moves beneath mine, a ferocity to his rolling hips that mirrors his movements in battle. I like to think that one day I'll take his pride the way I'm taking his body. I like to think that one day he'll moan my name for me.

Our first time lasted longer than I thought it would. I knew he was close by the way his groans grew in pitch, and by the erratic up and down movements of his hips. All I had to do was reach between our sweating stomachs and circle his cock with my fist. Just that one touch, and he was coming against me in streaks, a hoarse cry tearing from his throat. I continued to stroke him with my hand, drawing his orgasm out as long as possible as I thrust back and forth. My climax crashed into me like a wave, and I didn't even think to ask him if I could come inside him before I already was. I gave him this lazy look as if to say I would've came inside him with or without his permission anyway, and then I slowly pulled out and rolled to the side so I wouldn't crush him beneath my weight.

Now I'm lying here and staring at the ceiling, and he's lying beside me with his legs spread wide. Our broken pants mingle together and I can't tell the difference between them, but it's music to my ears. After a moment he sits up and reaches down to grab the sheet, using the corner to wipe the come from his stomach as he pulls it up. I use another corner to wipe my stomach as well, my eyes drawn to the milky substance clashing against my skin. I'm tempted to touch it with my fingers and taste it, because I'm curious to know if Quincy come tastes different from shinigami come.

My plan's destroyed when he drapes the blanket over both of us, and now I'm no longer wondering what Quincy come tastes like but whether or not I'm supposed to turn to him. He decides for me, his head of dark velvety hair resting against my chest. His slim body is draped over mine, and one of his legs is wedged between my thighs. Uncertainty and surprise grip me, forcing my muscles to bunch instinctively.

"Don't be tense Abarai," he sighs tiredly, his breath misting over my skin. "You weren't tense when you were fucking me."

"I ain't tense," I argue, and just to prove my point I throw my arm around his thin waist to pull him closer. There's movement against my chest and I swear the kid's smiling, but I'm too tired and too lost in my own post-sex haze to even look. It's not long before his breathing slows, air blowing back and forth across my skin languidly. I feel my own eyes starting to sag, and I fall asleep to the feel of his heartbeat against my ribs.

XXX

It's dark when I wake up, but when I glance out the window with sleepy eyes I see light on the horizon, sending splashes of pale gold across the sky. Ishida's still lying against me and my arms are still wrapped around him. I fight back a yawn, then reach up with my free hand to rub my face. I take a moment to stare at the walls of his bedroom, which are cold and white. Their bareness reminds me of death and Hueco Mundo. I start to think of what I'd like to put on those walls to bring some life into the room, when I hear something murmured just inches below me. My ears perk and I tilt my head, hoping that I'll catch the softly spoken word once more.

The first time, and he's just whispered my first name in his sleep.


End file.
